


Independent Rough Rider Companies: The Arth Yeomanry (Arh na Ghillies)

by Ainsinnes



Series: The History of Sepulchuria: A New Life in Death [1]
Category: Warhammer 40.000
Genre: 'non fiction', Astra Militarum | Imperial Guard (Warhammer 40.000), Sepulchuria, Warhammer 40k - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:01:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29221380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ainsinnes/pseuds/Ainsinnes
Summary: An entry from the wider History of Sepulchuria series of articles.Covers the history, culture and combat doctrines of Rough-Rider companies deployed by the Astra Militarum forces in the Albio System.
Series: The History of Sepulchuria: A New Life in Death [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2145489





	Independent Rough Rider Companies: The Arth Yeomanry (Arh na Ghillies)

The fringe of the Albio System is girdled by a vast belt of ice and rock. Aside from the incalculable mineral wealth therein, the belt contains a number of large fragmented planetoids. Typically known as the Arth Cluster, these desolate mountainous worlds are home to small tribes of rugged people collectively known as the Arth Dyn. They are clustered on the far side of the central star from the majority of the System's worlds, forever set apart from their civilising warmth. They have remained isolated from the Plantagenets for the most part and hold a prideful (but ultimately illusory) autonomy from the wider Imperium. The scattered tribes, or Cinneadh ['Clans' lg], have existed for centuries eking out a living on an ever-changing geopolitical map of violent weather, volcanism and constant skirmishing.

To their 'civilised cousins' in the Albio System proper, an Arth Dyn represents the archetypal 'noble savage'. A brutish giant, he stands head and shoulders above the average Albioan. He is always clumsily draped in thick fabric, slackly wrapped around his pungent muscular frame, crudely dyed in quaint geometric patterns. To shield him from the worst excess of the abhorrent weather in the 'Cluster Wastes', an Arth Dyn will drape a matted fur cloak over his hulking shoulders. It is a rudimentary trophy from the savage ursine monsters prowling those Throne-forsaken wastes. This is an enduring depiction within Albioan artistic movements. As per the painfully avant-garde 'Neorocco Romantic' interpretation of the Arth Dyn trope in M41, artists of Sempeterna Prime currently fawn over the ignorant barbarian religiously absorbing the Emperor's Gifts. This always assisted by the utterly magnanimous Albioans of course. In these immense commissions for discerning Albioan nobility, an Arth Dyn is stereotypically posed on immaculately groomed interpretations of their supposedly bleak home-world. Inevitably lit by impossibly optimistic weather conditions, the Arth Dyn hero will fight gloriously epic battles. Or he might be spearing some great ursine monstrosity, to rescue the doe-eyed (and noticeably Albioan looking) princess; maybe he ravishes her instead. This last detail is largely determined by how truculent the 'arctic cousins' of the Arth Cluster are being about Albioan resource extraction within their sphere of influence at the time. Although almost totally bereft of void-craft, the Arth Dyn were occasionally known to attack Albioan Mining Corps by blasting chunks of ruined space elevator at the vulnerable ships.

It might seem wastefully academic to discuss the elitist indulgences of the Albioan aristocracy, the Regnum Plantagenet. However it crucial to note because, for all the extravagant artwork and florid poetry, very few Albioans (and therefore Imperials) have ever met an Arth Dyn. Fewer still had actually spoken to one, or visited their realm deliberately. Even the Mining Corps, who regularly harvest gases, salvage and rare metals from the ice-fields surrounding the Arth Cluster, rarely need to actually land there. Although the patronising caricatures seem to fit with the Arth Cluster's Imperial Classification as Feral, the designation belies a complex and ancient culture.

Each population holds a language, history and belief system in common with every other population in the Cluster. Ancient networks of space elevators, estimated to be relics from before Old Night, connect the dense shards of planetoid in a ragged chain. Although they are now reduced to an endless maze of dusty corridors, often open to the void and ever liable to collapse entirely. However these treacherous Cawr Mòr ['Giant-Ways' lg] may be, enough migration seems to occur to allow the hundreds of Cinneadh to develop in-step. Despite their warlike depictions in art, relations between the myriad Cinneadh are relatively stable and any conflicts rarely escalate above skirmishing or personal dispute. The keenest competition between Cinneadh occurs along tectonic plates, demarcated by the vast forests or scraps of arable hillside. Many of the mountain ranges are highly volcanic and when coupled with the egregious climate, these precious resources could rapidly dwindle and reappear elsewhere. This ever changing landscape breeds hardy resourceful folk. At home in smaller semi-nomadic communities, the Cinneadh of the Arth Dyn constantly wander their bleak lands and settle more by opportunity than anything else. Whilst perfectly capable of building substantial settlements (and on occasion imposing stone towers), the Arth Dyn could never benefit from such a permanent camp. It was inevitable that any one Cinneadh would be driven away by a larger rival, or the rain. A life on the razor's edge does not permit extravagances like an established townscape.

However these encounters are not always doomed to violence. It is just as likely for a Cinneadh to bring petrified peat to their host's threshold as the sword. Ritually invited in to share their new friends' hearth, the Arth Èilde ['Clan Elders' lg] will exchange further ceremonial gifts and to swear bonds of kinship upon the shared gift of fuel (exclusively over copious quantities of peaty grain alcohol). The two groups will then work in commune to protect and capitalise on their fleeting plunder. This is also an opportunity for intermarrying and the exchange of news and ideas. Whilst larger Gwych-Cinneadh ['Great Clans' lg] are formed, there appears to be no wider political agency within the Arth Dyn and large gatherings only materialise during esoteric religious events. Each Cinneadh, or group of three or four Cinneadh, typically only interacts with their immediate neighbours and only then after several days of arduous travel. In their isolation, deep bonds are forged within the Cinneadh and loyalty to its survival is profoundly impressed upon every member. The Cinneadh is treated like any living entity on the world and this ancestry is what binds each Arth Dyn cell in concerted action.

This profound emphasis on heritage is proudly displayed by every Arth Dyn in their patterned Fèile ['Cloak/Kilt' lg]. Most Albioans recognise it, condescendingly portrayed in the latest fashionable (or unfashionable) colours for snickering Albioan audiences. However such a reaction, upon a personal acquaintance, would see the sorry individual lifted bodily and headbutted unconscious by a glowering Arth Dyn. A dizzying grid of perpendicular lines tells the precise lineage of that individual back thousands of generations. The woven fabric is usually based on gridded blocks of dull practical colour like green, brown, black or occasionally blue. They are interwoven with lines of colour, often vibrant yellows and reds or stripes of emerald green and azure turquoise. The dizzying combination, thickness and spacing of these stripes within the grid denoted belonging to a particular family, then immediate Cinneadh, then every permutation of that Cinneadh's previous existence. Every Arth Dyn family to have ever worn the Arth-Pàtran is denominated on its immersive woven surface, directly linking them to its contemporary wearer. These chains of kinship are necessary because the Arth Dyn are a self-sufficient independent group of people. The body of a Cinneadh may be spread over an immense area, or split entirely by a vast mountain range or broad river. Self reliance and a deep affinity with the landscape are pre-requisite to survive the bleak terrain and utterly inclement weather. Small thatched roundhouses pepper moorland, skirt great lochs and fringe immense dark forests. Here families of the Cinneadh gather what they can to sustain themselves, trading surpluses with their scattered family, until the changing seasons or another clan drives them on again.

The majority of Arth Dyn are hunters, or forage the glens and valleys for food. The little farming that exists is totally disorganized and extends to following the semi-feral species of Grox that lives here. The Grox's immense size and thick copper coat of shaggy hair renders them immune to the intense cold and rain. Their sure-footed stubbornness extends their feeding range high into the precipitous foothills. The Highland Grox drift up and down the majestic glacial valleys, clipping the sharp bitter tufts of gorse-grass and clumps of woody purple lichen, in great arcing swathes. Every gram of a Highland Grox is harvested to meet the Cinneadh's needs, from food to tools and clothing. Mockingly reviled as little more than sackcloth by Albioan high-society, the fabric is considered too rough for proper tailoring. Nevertheless the cloth is totally windproof and still retains heat when sodden. The Fèile's high thread count and complex quilted layers will deter even the worst of blizzards and totally ignore the viciously spiny native flora.

The other garment typically worn by the Arth Dyn is what cements their legend as barbarian slaughterers of wild beasts. Again this could not be further from the reality. The great fur cloak of an Arth Dyn is perhaps their most treasured possession. Aside from the literal aspect of inevitable death without them, the cultural significance of these cloaks transcends any abstraction of man to speak of a profound connection with the world they inhabit. The Arth-Beinn ['Arth Highland Bear' lg] is that ursine creature of painterly infamy. Far from a moronic drooling monster, the species has adapted over millions of years to effortlessly traverse vast tracts of impossible landscape, exploiting the hidden bounties of its home with the utmost discretion. Bears invisibly roam thousands of hectares in search of food and shelter, from both the weather and monstrous Wyrms that dwell high within the mountain peaks. Since humans first arrived in the Arth Cluster they have held a strong bond with these intelligent, resourceful and resilient creatures. In M41 it is understood that the entire bear population is quasi-domesticated and inextricable from the continued existence of the Arth Dyn. Each new birth into the Cinneadh will pair with a newborn cub and form an inseparable bond with the animal over years of shared reliance. This relationship is so close that should one of the pair die, the other will invariably follow soon after.

Upon the death of an Arth Dyn, the family will harvest their bear's pelt once it has pined away. The deceased's heir will then spend days fashioning themself a cloak from the pelt; their bear will eat the carcass of its relative. This is considered their transition to adulthood proper and the Arth Dyn believe that the parent's wisdom and strength will flow through the cloak and into their child. Aside from its obviously beneficial weatherproof qualities, the bear's fur has a number of properties that make the Arth Dyn wearers such superlative hunters. The hairs themselves are coated in photophores, that react to the ambient colours of their surroundings and subtly change colour to match. This is enhanced as the cloack tracks through the environment and bits of grass and moss lodge in its sticky surface. This fur is incredibly thick and layered to retain all the wearer's body heat. Anything covered by the cloak will not show up on thermal auspexes, as the outer surface will match the ambient temperature. Using these cloaks and a lifetime of stalking prey, the Arth Dyn can slip unnoticed across any battlefield to command their desired position uncontested.

The Independent Companies are formed from the pool of warriors available within the Cluster, when needed by the Imperium. This happens ad hoc, rather than in an annual tithe. Due to the inherent difficulty in recruitment, the Companies are usually raised to meet specific needs within the System's Astra Militarum Regiments. These Yeomen are exclusively deployed on their huge bears and have evolved to form a devastatingly effective role within a Sepulchurian battle-formation. Like many Rough-Rider companies, the Arth na Ghillies ['Scouts of the Bear' lg] ascertain enemy positions and bolster lines of communication. However after a laborious training process, the Drill Abbots can eventually convince the sceptical clansmen that a Hell-Pattern Long-Las is far superior to their own primitive las-muskets or bows. With a considerable degree of patience, they can then teach the Arth Dyn how to fire and maintain these 'magical' lances. Once armed with these high calibre weapons, their superlative abilities as hunters and trackers make the Arth Dyn formidable snipers. However it is their mounts that provide such a uniquely dangerous advantage for a Sepulchurian Commander.

If an Arth Dyn hunter is called to the Awyr-Cogadh ['Great Sky Battle' lg] his bear will join him. Although transporting them through the void is far from an easy or cheap business. It is often necessary to sedate the human first, as he will inevitably attack the poor adept tasked with putting his bear in stasis for the long journey. The bears' incredible climbing ability and curious mottled fur allows them reach the most inaccessible areas, even fully laden with rider and gear, settle down and become almost invisible in the process. Instinctively stealthy and cautious a bear can pad through the densest terrain like a ghost, bearing his rider to seemingly impossible locations with ease. From here small groups of Ghillies can dismount, fire with lethal accuracy and slip away to another angle, forever bleeding the beleaguered foe from a thousand precision cuts.

Larger groups can form highly mobile fire-support units. Loping silently towards predetermined landmarks, they will carry some very apprehensive passengers. Having enduring the nail biting ride, a FOO and Vox-Operator can then establish a totally superior position, from which to survey an impending offensive. An Engineer Corps will typically engage the enemy and attempt to draw them within a pre-sighted fire zone. The detachment of Yeomen will then be ordered to pin the enemy with merciless sniper fire, stymieing their offensive and forcing the enemy endure relentless artillery bombardments. Exploiting their superb manoeuvrability, Ghillies will rove around the flanks of the enemy assault with impunity and punish any enemy suicidal enough to break cover with instant death. The Yeoman's artillery spotters will then call in supporting artillery regiments to pound the doomed enemy into submission. From his superior vantage point, the FOO is able to call out patterns and identify points of leadership within the enemy positions, refining the batteries' aim to annihilate commanders and mop-up pockets of resistance. However it is only when the enemy retreats from this mercilessly choreographed slaughter, that the fleeing soldiers' nightmare truly begins. For by this point the Arth na Ghillies will have relocated and clandestinely dispersed across the enemy's rear lines. Fleeing soldiers will run into a las-bolt wherever they turn to find cover. The enemy will now dismay to find absolutely no quarter, as they attempt to retreat into supposedly safer positions. Each Ghillie will absorb dozens of foes and tonnes of resource, before eventually succumbing to swamping numbers or obliterating heavy weapons.

At this stage it is nigh on impossible to recall the Arth na Ghillies, as they mercilessly hunt down every last foe. Seasoned Commanders will usually shrug and mentally prepare for a welcome gift of totemically fashioned body parts, left by whatever remains of his Ghillies, upon arriving at their camp a few days later. Although never actually corroborated by the Arth Dyn, one of their favoured assemblages does vaguely resemble an Imperial Aquila. This appears to the Arth Dyn way of expressing loyalty. Nevertheless allied forces, unfamiliar with the Arth Dyn's peculiar culture, have often responded with reasonable alarm. Usually they will suffer heavy casualties before being gently relieved by Sepulchurian veterans, more accustomed with the intricacies of talking the 'War-bound' barbarians down from the hills. Ultimately the more 'provincial' downside to the violence these fierce individuals perpetrate is overlooked, in favour of their incredible martial power. However they are rarely attached to fight alongside regiments other than Sepulchurians. The few Arth Dyn that bother to learn Low Gothic usually remain so heavily accented that most Imperials cannot understand their habitually cryptic and metaphorical responses. The companies that survive a tour are usually folded into the command structure of its parent Sepulchurian regiment. The repeated exposure to one another helps to bridge the vast language and culture gaps between the two peoples and these pairings have garnered hundreds of Battle Honours together.


End file.
